


Reunion

by Valentino389



Category: Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 03:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7084624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valentino389/pseuds/Valentino389
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James awakens from a terrifying nightmare to find an invitation to the birthday party of a dead man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. James

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn't really follow any sort of cannon other than character relations. It was just something I penned for fun while trying to survive the hell of finals week. The way the protagonists act may be a bit ooc but I tried my best. 
> 
> This also takes place technically before any of the games and therefore none of the characters have even been to, or experienced the dangers of Silent Hill. The timelines are all fucked up but I want to make some unique reactions and interactions that may have never seen the light of day otherwise.

James looked down at his bloodstained hands and felt tears begin to well up in his steel blue eyes. He had just committed the be-all end-all of criminal acts; he had robbed another human being of their life. The deceased laid at James' feet, half of his skull caved in, revealing the inner workings of his head. The pipe that had been used to do the deed was resting against the far wall, coated in blood and brain matter. James leaned back against the wall and slid down to the floor. He brought his knees up to his chest and rested his face on them. Tears mixed with blood on his cheeks and dribbled down his face, saturating the collar of his jacket. 

"James." A high pitched voice broke the silence and elicited a small jump from James. He scoured the room with his eyes, searching for the source of the voice. "James, please, help me." The voice was pleading, begging for James. He scrambled to his feet. 

"Mary?!" James yelled out the name of his former wife, hope surging through his veins. His eyes continued to survey the darkened landscape for any sign of his lost love. "Mary, where are you?" His voice came out scratchy and dry. 

"You couldn't save me, you let me die. This is your fault." The voice was accompanied by a small white mist that began to materialize in the warm summer air. The mist grew and began to take shape, human shape. It developed into the ragged visage of James' past. Her long blonde hair and bright green eyes came into view and James let out a small gasp. This mist version of Mary reached out to James and placed its hand on his chest. "Why didn't you save me, why did you let me die?" 

"I...I don't know, Mary. There was nothing I could do, you were too far gone." James croaked out his pathetic reply. "I tried, please believe me, I tried my best." James hung his head and once again began to sob. The hand on his chest tightened into a fist and crumpled the breast pocket of his jacket. He looked up and uttered a fearful whimper. What had been the ghostly features of his departed lover had been distorted into a horrific mass of bone and muscle tissue. The eye sockets were sunken into the skull and the nose had been replaced by a cracked hole. The mouth had been torn to the ear on both sides and the lower jaw was hanging on by a thread. The creature let out a small groan and James fell backward, leaving behind the small scrap of jacket in the monstrosity's hand. 

"Don't leave me." The once sweet voice had taken on a low, almost demonic tone. James once again brought his knees to his chest and buried his face between them. 

"Please, god, help me." As if in response to James' plea, the world faded to black. 

James awoke with a start. He was shaking and his skin was slick with sweat. He took in his surroundings, reassuring himself that he was in his room and not that hellscape he had just escaped. He ran his hand through his hair and let out a sigh of relief. He reached a hand out to the other side of the bed, feeling for the warmth of his wife. His hand felt nothing but the cool surface of his flannel sheet. Of course she wasn't there, she had been gone for months. It was just another habit he hadn't been able to shake. 

A knock at the door shook James from his rather depressing thoughts. He left behind the warmth of his bed in exchange for the cold air of his large, empty apartment. He stumbled into the living room, wiping sleep from his eyes, and looked through the peephole. At first he saw nothing, but then a slight movement caught his attention. It was a large, black shadow moving across the opposite wall of the hallway. James shrugged lightly to himself and pulled open the door. On the floor, directly in front of his right foot, was a small white envelope. James searched the hallway for any sign of the mysterious messenger but found nothing. The only sound in that completely deserted hallway was the air conditioner at the end of the hallway. James retrieved the envelope from the floor and retreated back into his apartment, closing and locking the door behind him. 

"Wonder what this could be." James spoke aloud to the empty apartment as he tossed the letter onto the counter and set off to start a pot of coffee. 

After a cup of coffee and a stale bagel, James sat down at the counter and slid the letter over to him. Before he commenced the opening of said letter, he retrieved the television remote from the basket on the kitchen table and pushed the power button. The screen displayed a rather upsetting news story about a murder-suicide. James changed the channel to something a bit more calming, the country music countdown station. As some old man sang about losing his wife and crashing his truck, James turned his attention back to the strange letter. 

The envelope was wrinkled and had small brown stains on the corners. It looked like old paper, as if this letter had been penned at least a decade ago. On the front of the envelope, James' name was printed in fluid cursive, almost calligraphic. He removed the letter opener from the same basket that the TV remote called home and slit the top of the envelope. Inside was a small ticket and a large piece of paper filled with writing. 

The ticket was small, golden, and had beautiful script running across it. It read: "Mr. James Sunderland, you have been cordially invited to attend the birthday extravaganza of one Mr. Frank Sunderland. If you believe you have received this invitation in error, please call 000-957-8923." 

James dropped the ticket onto the counter and stared down at it in disbelief. Frank Sunderland had been his father until three Christmases ago, when his car was struck by an eighteen wheeler and he died.


	2. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a similarly distressing dream and finds yet another strange invitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably isn't the most canonical thing in the world (Heather not actually being Heather), but I hope you guys enjoy

Harry awoke to the sound of metal clanging and a child screaming. He rushed out of bed and grabbed the pocket knife that he kept in his bedside drawer. He ran out into the hallway of his small home, his thoughts centering on the well-being of his daughter who slept two rooms away. He threw open the door to her room and was greeted with an empty bed. His fear grew exponentially and the worst case scenario popped into the front of his mind: she had been kidnapped. 

Another scream emanating from the kitchen pushed that idea from his head. She was still here and she needed his help. He ran from the adolescent's room and into the kitchen. What he saw sent a chill down his spine and caused vomit to fill his mouth. 

A large man was standing in the middle of his kitchen, a hatchet in his hand. Harry's daughter was in a heap on the floor, half of her face had been completely obliterated by the hatchet's blade. Her once beautiful visage had collapsed into a pile of bone, brain matter, and flesh. The hardwood floor of Harry's pristine kitchen had been splattered with the insides of his daughter's head. 

Harry couldn't move, his legs felt like stone pillars. He just stared at the man that had taken his daughter from him, anger and sadness boiling in his gut. The man took one final look down at his handiwork and uttered a small chuckle. He then turned his attention to Harry. Harry could feel his knees come unhinged and he fell to the ground, his back cracking and popping in protest. He looked over at the spreading pool of blood under his beloved daughter's defiled corpse and then up at the home invader who had done the defiling. He swallowed hard and prepared to feel the blade of the hatchet sinking into his flesh. At this point, it didn't even matter anymore; with his daughter gone, he had no reason to live. 

"Just kill me." The words came out as a desperate whisper. 

"Happy to oblige." The man spoke for the first time. His voice was inhuman, containing a low distorted tone. He brought the hatchet up and over his head with the greatest of ease. Harry watched as the hatchet neared his eyes and then the world faded to black. 

 

The sound of screaming shook Harry from his nightmare-plagued sleep. He looked around, waiting to hear the screams again, but soon realized he had been the one screaming. The door to Harry's messy bedroom slowly creaked open and his daughter poked her head in around the edge. 

"Are you alright dad? I heard you screaming." Seeing her face sent a tidal wave of relief through Harry and his face stretched into a smile. 

"I'm fine dear, just a nightmare." Harry had decided to keep the details of his dream to himself, there was no need to burden Cheryl with them. "Why don't you go set up the coffee pot, I will be out in a few." Harry flashed another smile. 

"Okay dad, will do." Cheryl attempted to return Harry's smile but he could see the apprehension in her eyes. 

"Seriously, Cheryl, it was just a bad dream, nothing to worry about." He kept his voice calm and sounded reassuring. Cheryl seemed to be satisfied as she turned and walked off toward the kitchen. Harry sighed and laid back against his pillow. He stared up at the slowly rotating ceiling fan and listened to the pull chain smack against the light globe. 

After a very hot shower (as always) and a quick style choice, Harry made his was out into the kitchen and was greeted with the smell of cooking bacon and boiled coffee. 

"Well, thank you my beautiful daughter." Harry smiled as he accepted a plate fill of bacon and scrambled eggs. 

"This came for you while you were in the shower, using all of the hot water...again!" Cheryl joked and playfully punched Harry in the shoulder. "Speaking of showers, I think I'm going to go take one. Eat slowly and make sure to chew your food. We wouldn't want any more choking incidents." Cheryl humorously scolded Harry (who feigned choking on a piece of bacon) and headed off for the bathroom. 

Harry grabbed the small envelope and took a long look at it. It seemed to be quite old, with brown stains around the edges. Harry's name was written on the front in beautiful cursive script. He tore through the top of the envelope with his index finger and pulled out two items. One was a small golden ticket and the other was a piece of paper filled with writing. The ticket was wrinkled and slightly damp but the wording was legible: "Mr. Mason, you have been cordially invited to the birthday extravaganza of one Mrs. Jodie Mason. This wonderful event will be hosted at the picture-esque Lakeview Hotel. A bottle of wine would be greatly appreciated." 

Harry dropped the ticket to the floor and took in a sharp breath. He looked up at the ceiling tiles and laughed. "This must be some kind of joke." Jodie Mason was Harry's ex wife. She had been taken from him by a drunken driver 3 Christmases ago.


	3. Henry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet another familiar face is stricken by frightful dreams and cryptic messages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update has literally taken months and, for that, I apologize. It is also probably the most OOC chapter yet. Henry is one of my favorite protagonists in the series (unpopular opinion, I know) and this chapter probably does not do him justice. If he reads like an oc, I apologize.

"I don't know who you think you are, but you will not talk to my wife like that." Henry's anger was flaring; he was seeing red. This smarmy little grocery store clerk had been ringing things up twice and now he had the nerve to call Henry's wife a bitch? Henry grabbed him by the collar and lifted him a few inches off the ground. 

"I'm really sorry sir. I meant no offense." The clerk was shaking and his Adam's apple was bobbing furiously. 

"You meant no offense?! What the hell do you think the word bitch means?" Herny raised his hand in a threatening gesture, but his punch was halted by the touch of a small, cold hand. 

"Henry...what is happening to me?" Henry's wife spoke up, but her voice was shaky and whimpering. When Henry turned toward her, a wave of fear washed over him. Blood, thick and red, began to dribble from her tear ducts. This stream was soon joined by a trail from her nose and two identical flows from her ears. Henry watched in utter disbelief as his wife's face became a sheet of red, completely obscured by her own blood. After what seemed like hours of profuse bleeding, she collapsed, her head smashing into the grocery bag turnstile. Henry's legs turned to mush and he fell to his knees. 

"Eileen?" His voice was nothing more than a soft croak. He grabbed one of Eileen's hands and brought it to his chest. 

"Henry." Her voice was accompanied by a small splash of warm blood. 

"What is it?" Henry lunged forward, a bit too enthusiastically. He was expecting a heartfelt goodbye, maybe a few parting words. There was nothing. 

"Please, please don't leave me." A tear spilled over the lip of Henry's eyelid and ran down his cheek. 

"Hen..." Eileen's words were cut short by a loud cracking sound. After a few seconds of confusion, Henry located the source of the noise: Eileen's lower jaw was slowy unhinging. Skin tore and bone snapped as her chin came to rest on her collarbone. 

"Oh god..." Henry put a hand over his mouth and choked back the bile rising in his throat. A wave of blood rushed out of the gaping maw that used to be the red lips of his true love. Following shortly behind the expulsion of blood, a group of insects began to make their way out of Eileen's throat. Henry could no longer hold back; he retched hard, vomit exploding from his mouth. 

After a few long seconds of painful dry heaving, Henry regained whatever composure he had left and removed his cell phone from the front pocket of his jeans. He quickly opened the dialer and punched in 911. 

"911, what is your emergency?" The voice sounded rather giddy. It struck Henry as strange but he didn't have time to stress over such things. 

"My wife, she...I don't know what happened. Just send someone please, I think she's dying!" Henry exclaimed. 

"I'm sorry sir, we don't have any available medical personnel to assist you at this time." Henry couldn't be sure but he thought he had heard a stifled chuckle accompanying those words. "The next available ambulance is en route. Expect arrival within a day or two." Another chuckle, not even hidden this time. 

"What is fucking funny about this?!" Henry exploded, anger and sadness mixing in his voice. 

"Please remain calm..." The voice was interrupted by a dilerious laughing fit. "I'm sorry, I really am." The words were broken by nearly psychotic emissions of laughter. 

Without notice, the grocery store was plunged into darkness. Every strip light clicked off simultaneously. It was then that Henry noticed the complete lack of other people. He and Eileen were completely alone in a pitch black grocery store. Even the smarmy clerk had seemingly disappeared. 

"What the fuck is going on?" As if in response to Henry's desperate questioning, an extremely bright spotlight clicked on and bathed Henry and his mutilated wife in searing white light. It seemed that this bloody display was now front and center in some fucked up theatre show. 

"Henry. Look at me." Henry'scrambled attention was drawn by the gurgling growl. He swiftly spun back toward his desecrated wife. Her right hand was hovering a few inches from his face, wavering and dripping blood. He took it in his, fighting the disgust that he felt as her blood spread over the back of his hand. 

"What is it?" His voice was pleading. Instead of the distorted voice Henry was expecting, a loud metallic clanging escaped the mangled hole that was once a mouth. It slowly increased in volume until Henry had to cover his ears. The sound continued, becoming faster and louder, piercing Henry's eardrums. He felt a warmth begin to spread inside his ear and quickly pulled away his hands; the palms were covered in blood... his blood.

 

Henry awoke with a start. A small sliver of sunlight cut through his black curtains and streaked across his room. 

"Fuck..." Henry let out a heavy sigh as he realized where he was. It had all been a dream, Eileen was fine. He reached over to his right, expecting to feel the warmth of Eileen's sleeping body. Instead, he felt nothing but the silk of his sheets. He felt his heart skip a beat as he vaulted out of his bed and into the hallway. He quickly scrambled through the small hallway and into his kitchen. 

"Wow. That's not something I expected to see." Eileen's voice sent a wave of relief through Henry. She stood in front of the coffee pot, a smile on her face and a hand on her hip. "Not that I'm complaining." In Henry's rush to find his wife, he had forgotten to put on well, anything. It was then that he felt a slight chill on his naked form. 

"Well, excuse my explicity." Henry bowed and quickly made his way back into the bedroom. He slid out the top drawer of his small metal wardrobe and removed a white t-shirt and a pair of stained blue jeans. 

"Hey, you got some mail." Eileen called to him from the kitchen. He was overwhelmed with happiness at the sing-song tone in her voice. It was a beautiful shift from the distorted grumblings he left behind in nightmareland. 

"Already? It's like, 10 am." The mailman never dropped off mail before 4 pm. 

"Yeah, I think someone just slid it in through the mail slot. It doesn't have a return address." The words caused Henry's stomach to knot up. He knew there was no way this was related to his nightmare, but the timing was very uncomfortable. 

"Alright. I'll be out. You wanna pour me a cup of coffee?" Henry kept his voice steady; he didn't want to reveal his unease. 

"Sure. You should come and join me in the shower when you're through with the mail." Henry couldn't see her but he knew she was wearing that sly little smile. 

"You bet." A smile broke through the anxiety and creased Henry's face. He listened as she exited the kitchen and turned on the shower. He then made his way back into the kitchen and sat down on one of the metal stools lining the island on which he and Eileen stored his pots and pans. The envelope that Eileen had mentioned was laid out next to a steaming cup of coffee. There was no return address, just as Eileen had said. Henry's name and address was scrawled on the front in shaky cursive. He slowly tore through the top of the envelope and removed a small golden ticket. It was lined with beautiful filigree and etched with impressive script. 

"Mr. Townshend, you are cordially invited to the birthday extravaganza of Cynthia Velasquez. A bottle of wine would be much appreciated." Henry dropped the ticket onto the counter and let out a small chuckle. 

"This is bullshit." Henry vocalized his distaste for the cryptic message. Out of morbid curiosity, Henry flipped over the ticket and read the remaining text. 

"This party will be hosted at the Lakeview Hotel. I am sure you know the way." Henry's blood ran cold. Whoever this was knew some serious shit about him. He hadn't even told Eileen about his past trips to Silent Hill. 

"Are you coming or what?" Eileen's voice shook him from his stupor. 

"You'll see." Henry joked and choked back the feelings of dread that were swirling in his stomach.


End file.
